


falling as we grow

by youdidnt



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friendship, Insecurity, M/M, its never stated anywhere but maccachin is okay in this one, the healing power of friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8661655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdidnt/pseuds/youdidnt
Summary: Yuuri's mother leans towards the candles, and shortly before she blows them out she squeezes his hand and says “I want you to always be happy, confident and loved.”In which Yuuri grows up and gets by with a little help from his friends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from Woodkids "The Golden Age". This fic is basically my love letter to Katsuki Yuuri.
> 
> Since English is not my first language I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes or odd sentence structures. I'd appreciate it if you could point them out to me :)

It is Yuuri’s fourth birthday and he is not yet interested in figure skating and has no idea that he will compete in the Grand Prix Championship of figure skating in less than twenty years.

His biggest interest right now is the new Lego he got for his birthday. 

He is sitting on a table with his relatives and Minako-sensei (who gave him a great new pair of ballet shoes as a present), but he would much rather test his new Lego with his sister Mari. Instead, he has to listen to grown-up talk. He rests his head on his palm and shoots Mari a look of pure boredom – judged by the way she rolls her eyes, Mari feels the same.

“Can we go now?” he mutters under his breath. It is his birthday after all, he should be able to do whatever he wants. His mother only gives him a sympathetic smile in response and reaches out to ruffle his hair. 

“Don’t you want to blow out your candles first?” she says loud enough for everyone to hear. At that, even his aunt Mai interrupts her rant about the new diet she’s currently trying to look at him.

“I guess so,” he answers. “But I don’t know what to wish for.”

 “Wish for a cat!” Mari shouts, pumping her fist into the air.

“We are not getting a cat,” their father says in a voice that implies they’ve had this argument many times before.

“Nonsense,” aunt Mai shrieks and the volume of her voice makes Yuuri flinch. “All little boys have something they want.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, Yuuri spends a long time thinking about what he wants. Unconsciously, he moves a hand to his mouth to bite on his nails. More Lego would be nice, but does he really want to waste his wish on something he already has a lot of? A cat would be cool, but his parents won’t allow a pet, so that’s out of question, too. Minako-sensei told him there is no sense in wishing to be better at something: She said all it takes is a lot of practice, so that cancels out the wish to be better at ballet. More toys, maybe? Sweets? Pork cutlet bowl every day of the week?

“I don’t know,” he says again after a while, his voice filled with shame at the admission. It seems to be an easy enough question that he should know the answer to, so why doesn’t he? Aunt Mai can’t be right; he can’t be the only boy who doesn’t know what he wants… can he? His shoulders drop and he avoids looking anyone in the eye, fearful of being judged.

“Let me make a wish for you, then,” his mother offers as she covers Yuuri’s hand with her own. Her eyes lie on Yuuri, eyebrows raised, waiting for permission. Yuuri has never heard of someone making a birthday wish for someone else before, but if his mother says it is okay, he believes her. So he nods.

She leans towards the candles, and shortly before she blows them out, she squeezes Yuuri’s hand and says “I want you to always be happy, confident and loved.”

And just like that, she blows out all four candles at once.

“Can we go and play now?” Yuuri asks.

__

Yuuri is six and holding back his tears. His back hurts from where he is leaning against the hard bark of a tree and the sun is blinding him, but none of these things are the reason for his grief.

A ball lands in front of his feet and he crouches to pick it up and throw it to its owner. But someone else is faster and grabs it without even so much as looking at Yuuri.

Tears are welling up in his eyes. It is ridiculous, really: Everyone around him at elementary school has already made new friends while he can’t even bring himself to talk to someone else. When he told his mother, she just smiled at him and said “You are going to find friends eventually. Who doesn’t want to be friends with a lovely boy like you?”  
  
_Everyone apparently_ , Yuuri thinks, biting his lip and wiping at his face with a sleeve.

The sound of footsteps approaching makes him turn his head. There's a girl who hasn't been there before standing next to him and she blinks at him out of owlish brown eyes.

“Why are you crying?” The girl takes a step closer, making Yuuri want to take one back, but the tree blocks his path.

“I am not crying!” He throws his chin up in defiance and crosses his arms in front of his chest. The girl is not stupid, though, and she, too, crosses her arms.

“Are too!” she says. “I saw you! And your face is all wet!”

Yuuri considers denying it again, but there is no point. The girl is right and he is smart enough to know that this is an argument he cannot win. He lets his arms drop and avoids her gaze as he admits with a small voice “No one wants to be my friend.”

“Oh,” the girl says as if that explains everything. “If you want, I can be your friend. And I am sure my friends want to be your friends, too.”

“Really?” Yuuri says, looking at her, taking her in fully for the first time since she approached him. He notices that she is missing a tooth, right in the front of her mouth where everyone can see, and her pigtails are uneven and messy. Her skirt is stained and rumpled, like she’s been sitting in the sand for a long time, and he can make out a fading bruise on her left knee. She is looking at Yuuri with nothing but kindness and curiosity in her eyes, and in this moment, she is the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

“Of course! Come on, let me introduce you!” she bubbles and grabs his hand, pulling him towards the playground.

“W-wait!” Yuuri stammers. “I don’t even know your name!”

“Oh, that’s right. I am Yuuko, but you can call me Yu-chan! And you are Katsuki Yuuri, right?”

“Y-yeah,” he replies.

“Cool. Your parents own the hot springs, don't they? My parents own the Ice Castle! Have you ever been ice skating?”

Yuuri shakes his head.

“You need to try it, it’s so much fun! We can go together, if you want.”

“I… I would love that. Thank you.” Yuuko beams and Yuuri offers a smile in return.

Just like that, he has found a friend.

__

Yuuri is still six years old when Yuuko takes him ice skating. He is clutching the fence and looks like he’s scared of the ice breaking beneath his feet, leaving him to drown.

“You said this is fun!” Yuuri pouts while his feet are trying to escape from him into every direction. He is glad Yuuko didn’t bring any of her other friends. While he likes them well enough, he wouldn’t want them to see him like this.

“It is!” Yuuko exclaims, trying to remove Yuuri’s hand from the fence. “You just need to let go!”

Yuuri does. And falls.

“It takes some practice, but once you can do it, it’s so much fun!” Yuuko promises. There’s honesty in her voice, and hope, and so Yuuri believes her.

“Here, let me show you.”

She skates to the middle of the rink without hesitation. Her movements look practiced and effortless, as if she’s walking on solid ground and not skating on ice. The ice makes a crunching sound beneath her feet as she comes to an abrupt halt and does a spin, and then two, and then she’s too fast for Yuuri to count. The coldness of the ice creeps into his bones, gradually moving upwards through his body, but he doesn’t even notice.

When Yuuko finishes, she skates back towards him (this time backwards and Yuuri is absolutely hypnotized by her movements) where she helps him back onto his feet.

“That was amazing!” he exclaims. The force of his outburst almost makes him fall down again. Yuuko’s cheeks are red, either from exhaustion or embarrassment, and she scratches the back of her head.

“That was nothing. You should see my mom; she’s the best figure skater in the world!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I don’t know many other figure skaters, but she is the best. And one day, I am going to be the best, too.”

Inspired by Yuuko’s performance, Yuuri is filled with excitement, adrenaline rushing to his head and he blurts “Me, too!”  
He pulls back his shoulders, takes a deep breath and tries to take a step forward… and promptly falls down again. Somewhere above him, Yuuko is laughing.

“No,” she snickers. “You’re doing it all wrong. Here, let me show you.”

She helps him to his feet and grabs both of his hands before she skates backwards, pulling Yuuri with her. Their movements are slow, sluggishly so, but Yuuri can’t recall a moment in his life that has been more exciting.

By the end of the day, he is able to skate forwards without Yuuko holding his hand.

__

Yuuri is eight years old and he is getting better and better at skating. He is long able to skate without falling and now trying to learn the more complicated things Yuuko’s mother is trying to teach him.

“Wow Yuuri, if you continue like this you might be better than me soon,” Yuuko tells him. There is no bitterness in her voice, no jealousy, just pride and Yuuri thinks he might be a bit in love with her. 

“I am going to be the best figure skater the world has ever seen,” Yuuri says. By now he knows that Yuuko’s mother is not the best figure skater in the world. He knows about the many other people who are just as good or even better than her. And he knows about the huge competitions that are being held to determine who the best figure skater is. One day, that is going to be him.

“Pft, yeah,” someone behind Yuuri scoffs. His mood changes within a second. “As if a little piggy like you could be the best figure skater the world has ever seen.”

“Leave him alone, Takeshi,” Yuuko says, rolling her eyes. “You are just jealous because Yuuri is much better than you are. He can even do the splits, did you know that?”

“Everyone is a better skater than the gay fatty,” Takeshi sneers. “And I don’t need to do some stupid ballet stuff to prove it.”

It’s not the first time Takeshi has called him gay. Yuuri doesn’t understand why. He asked his mom what gay means and according to her, it’s a word used to describe a man who likes other men. First of all, Yuuri has no idea what him doing ballet or being a little chubby has anything to do with liking men. Secondly, he very obviously loves Yuuko. Everyone knows that. He is probably going to marry her at some point, because that’s what grown-ups who love each other do, so he is definitely not gay.  
Sometimes he thinks Takeshi wants to marry Yuuko, too, and that’s the reason why he is so mean to Yuuri.

“Go annoy someone else,” Yuuko says. “Maybe it would do you some good to practice some more instead of bothering us.”

For a split second, something like hurt flashes in Takeshi’s eyes, but it is quickly replaced by a smug smirk.

“Whatever.” Before he skates off, he shoves Yuuri, making him fall down with a loud clatter. “Don’t break the ice, little piggy.”

“What an asshole,” Yuuko murmurs when he is gone. Yuuri couldn’t agree more.

__

When Yuuri sees Viktor Nikiforov for the first time, he is ten years old.

“Yuuri, hurry! You need to see this!” Yuuko yells from where she is sitting in front of a TV. Yuuri rushes to her side.

“This is him! That’s the one I wanted to show you!” She points at the TV screen where a boy who can’t be much older than Yuuri himself is about to enter the skating rink. His long grey hair is pulled back into a ponytail and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. He smiles into a camera and Yuuri is already mesmerized.

“Who is he?” Yuuri breathes, eyes glued to the young skater.

“That’s Viktor Nikiforov. He’s only 14 years old but he is soooo good! Some people already call him the best skater the world has ever seen. And he’s probably going to win the Junior Championship this year.”

The skater – Viktor – stops in the middle of the skating rink and all the lights go out. The only exception is one spotlight, aimed at him, making his costume glow and sparkle. He gets into position and waits for the music to begin. When it does and Viktor begins to skate, Yuuri feels like all the air has left his lungs: Viktor is stunning. He is skating like he has never done anything else in his life. Yuuri isn’t even sure if he is touching the ice at all; his movements are too precise, as if he is floating.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Yuuko says and moves her hands to cover her red cheeks. Yuuri doesn’t reply, can’t reply, too concentrated on the skater. His heart is hammering against his chest as if he were the one skating right now.  
Meanwhile, Viktor lands his second jump which is just as perfect as the first. The crowd is cheering loudly and the commentator sounds a little out of breath.

“Wow,” Yuuri mumbles. Yuuko nods.

“He is sooo talented.” Neither of them is able to look away from the TV screen now where Viktor’s performance is drawing to a close. He closes his eyes and spins at a speed that makes Yuuri go dizzy from watching only.

As the music stops, the world does, too. It is silent for a few, long seconds, and then the crowd erupts into cheers. Yuuri is letting go a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Viktor is skating to the edge of the rink and waves at his fans. He looks nothing like the man Yuuri saw skating just a few seconds ago: his posture is easy and relaxed and all the tension is gone from his body. He looks straight into the camera and winks. Yuuri doesn’t know why, but he blushes.

When Yuuri says goodbye to Yuuko that night, he blurts “I want to be like him.”

And he does. He has never felt this inspired, this ecstatic about skating before and he, too, wants to inspire everyone like Viktor inspired him. He wants to evoke emotions and be as good as Viktor and most of all, he wants to skate with a purpose.

Yuuko only smiles at him fondly and says “If anyone can do it, Yuuri, it’s you.”

__

Yuuri is 15 and has a room full of posters of Viktor, a dog named after Viktor and a picture of Viktor as his phone background. This, and the fact that he hasn’t been as crushed as he thought he would be when Yuuko starts dating Takeshi, makes him wonder if Takeshi might have been onto something all the times he called Yuuri gay as a kid. Or, Yuuri thinks as he remembers the way his heart fluttered not too long ago every time Yuuko entered a room, he doesn’t really care about gender. It is all the same to him. Besides, he has no time to have a sexual identity crisis. After all, he is busy with slowly but surely becoming one of Japans most renowned young figure skaters. He long surpassed Yuuko and even her mother but he still has a long way to go.

Yuuri is standing at the edge of the skating rink, watching another skater perform. He is good, Yuuri can see that, and the thought makes his stomach tie up in knots. He promptly looks away from the rink and tries to think of something, anything, that distracts him from the pressure in his gut.

“Everything okay?” Minako asks, eyebrows raised and a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. She probably recognizes the look on Yuuri’s face, a look of pure fear, since it’s been there many times before. She doesn’t comment on it when Yuuri nods in reply. Instead, she does what she is best at: Criticizing.

“His step sequence is too simple,” she tells him. “And he’s getting tired towards the end. He’s making mistakes. You can do better.”

Yuuri nods again, not opening his mouth, not saying anything because he knows his voice would betray him.  
The skater, whose name Yuuri doesn’t even remember, finishes and the audience applauds. He leaves the rink and shoots Yuuri an encouraging smile, but it only fastens the knots in Yuuri’s stomach. His head is empty, his nails are bitten down and he doesn’t even know if he remembers his choreography.

“You can do this,” Minako reminds him with a clap on the back before he enters the rink. As he stands in the centre, his mind wanders and he thinks about Viktor. Viktor, who always seems to be so sure of himself and his movements. Viktor, who is watching him from every wall in his bedroom with a sure smile on his lips. Viktor, who is winning every competition he enters and probably wouldn’t be nervous if he were him.

The music begins and Yuuri exhales.

He wins and sets a new personal best.

__

Yuuri is 17 when he tells his parents that he is bisexual and wants to go to Detroit.

“Called it!” Mari shouts from another room.

His mother’s expression falls and she says with a sad voice “Are you sure about that?”

Warmth spreads across Yuuri’s cheeks and disappointment settles deep in his stomach. This is not the reaction he was hoping for. He takes a deep breath and stutters “I… I mean I thought about this for quite some time and I’m pretty sure I like boys, too-“

“I think your mother meant the part about you going to Detroit,” his father interrupts. She nods in agreement.

“Yeah. We already assumed the other thing, so that’s not really a surprise, sweetie.”

She hugs him and Yuuri starts crying in relief.

__

Yuuri is 18 and still unsure about so many things but sure about making the right decision when he’s moving from Hasetsu to Detroit. He reached his temporary goal by being a certified JSF skater, but there are always higher mountains to climb. Right now he wants nothing more than to skate on the same ice as Viktor Nikiforov.

His coach, Celestino, is doing his best to help him fulfil his dream, but Yuuri can’t shake off the feeling of not being good enough, of never being good enough.

“Cheer up,” Phichit, his roommate, says as he raises a toast to him. “I’m sure you will be better next time.”

The small bar is crowded with students from all over Detroit and Yuuri wants nothing more than to go home and hide beneath a blanket. Instead, he is sitting in a cramped booth and has to listen to soft pop rock music and the sounds of drunk students.

“He’s right, you know,” Svenja says as she slings an arm around his shoulders. Her Swedish accent is thick as she breathes hotly against his neck. “You just need more confidence.”

And oh, as if he’s never heard that one before.

“I’ll be right back,” he excuses himself, shakes Svenja’s arm off and makes his way through the crowd. Svenja is calling his name and a hand  grabs for his shoulder, but he shakes it off, too, and pushes his way through too many people until he finds himself on one of the many busy streets of Detroit.

Yuuri misses home. He misses the quiet skating rink, the familiarity of Hasetsu, his family and his friends. He misses Vicchan and his room, the sea and the silence. He can’t help but wonder if Viktor has ever felt like this: small and lonely and lost. As far as Yuuri knows (and if there’s one topic he knows a lot about, it’s Viktor Nikiforov), Viktor never had to deal with the bitter aftertaste of being defeated in an important competition.

It’s like he is six all over again, and he’s sitting alone at lunch break, too shy to talk to anyone. This time Yuuko won’t be able to save him.

The music from inside swells as the door opens. Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri can see Phichit.

“Wanna get out of here?” he simply asks without demanding answers or trying to make Yuuri feel better with words. Yuuri is so grateful, he wants to cry.

“What about the others?” he asks instead, shuffling from one foot to another.

“They’ll understand. Come on, let’s go,” Phichit says and starts walking, leaving Yuuri no other choice but to follow. Phichit calls for a taxi and as he announces the destination, all the tension eases from Yuuri’s body.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” Phichit answers with a smile.

They drive to the skating rink in silence.

__

Yuuri is 20 and winning competitions left and right and he is pretty sure his roommate is in love with his phone.

“Hey Yuuri,” Phichit calls from across the room. “That picture I took of you during your performance has almost 500 likes on Instagram.”

It takes Yuuri a while. When the realization finally sinks in, he sits upright in his bed.

“You took a picture of – you put it on the internet? Again?” he splutters. “Why can’t you upload pictures of your own performance?”

Their room is dark and crammed with furniture that is too big for the too small living space. Yuuri can only see the soft glow of Phichit’s phone, but he knows Phichit is laughing at him.

“I can’t take selfies while I am skating in a competition, can I?” he snickers.

His curiosity gets the better of him and Yuuri pulls out his phone to check Phichit’s Instagram. As soon as he hits the power button, he is greeted by a picture of Viktor during the performance that made him win yet another Grand Prix Championship. A sigh escapes his lips before he can stop it.

“You know,” Phichit says with a grin. “I have a friend who majors in art. I bet she could photoshop a picture of Viktor and you to make it look like you’re kissing.”

“Sh- shut up!” Yuuri stammers and slams his phone case shut. Phichit breaks into laughter. Mortified, Yuuri buries his face in his pillow and groans.

“Hey, Yuuri,” Phichit suddenly says and while he still sounds a bit bemused, he isn’t laughing anymore. “Can I ask you something personal?”

Even though everything in Yuuri screams _no_ at the question, he swallows and says “Sure, shoot.”

“Have you ever been with someone?”

The sound of laughter from outside fills the silence that follows. Yuuri bites on a nail and sighs. There have been people he found attractive enough and he might have even fancied some of them, yes. But it had always been easier to daydream about an unattainable idol than to actually start dating, so Yuuri never tried.

 “No, not really,” he replies meekly.

“I see,” Phichit says. “You know Svenja likes you?”

“Sh-she does?” Yuuri can feel his face growing hot again.

“Dude. You really didn’t know?”

“How? She’s just being friendly!” Yuuri splutters and covers his burning face with his hands.

“Oh man Yuuri. We’ve got some work to do,” Phichit laughs. “We should find you a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Whatever floats your boat.”

“I don’t really care,” Yuuri says quietly, even though he is alarmed by the prospect of Phichit finding him a partner. Knowing him, he probably has Yuuri signed up on some dating app already.

“I kinda figured,” Phichit answers, voice earnest and kind. It is quiet for a few heartbeats, until Phichit clears his throat and asks “Now, what do you think about Tanja? Her parents are Russian. You seem to have a thing for Russians.”

“Goodnight, Phichit!” Yuuri yells and Phichit laughs.

__

Yuuri is 22 and they didn’t find him a partner. Instead, he is working harder than ever to compete at the Grand Prix next year. Where Viktor will be.

“You’ll never guess who just liked the picture I took of you!” Phichit says, jaw hanging slightly open and eyes widened. For Yuuri, this can only mean one thing. He snatches Phichit’s phone out of his hands and scrolls through the seemingly endless list of notifications (and, oh god, why do so many people like a stupid picture of him during training?) He finds nothing.

“My mom, actually,” Phichit says. “She says hi and asks if you’re eating enough.”

Yuuri almost strangles him.

__

Yuuri is 23 and Viktor Nikiforov is offering him a commemorative picture. Yuuri doesn’t really care.

This time, not even skating until his body is numb and his feet are bruised and blistered helps him relax.

__

Yuuri is 23 and it has been several weeks since Viktor Nikiforov stood naked in front of him and declared he was going to be Yuuri’s couch from now on. Yuuri still can't believe it.

“You need to stretch your leg more!” he can hear Viktor call from behind him. “What are you doing, why are you turning around?”

The thing is, Yuuri sometimes absolutely needs to turn around to make sure the person who is giving him the instructions is in fact the real Viktor and not some figment of Yuuri’s imagination. But there he is, looking just like he does on TV, if not even better. Yuuri blinks several times to make sure Viktor doesn’t disappear.

Next to the rink is Yuuko, her children with her, one of them holding her phone up (He still can’t believe his best friend from childhood got married and had triplets while he was gone). Yuuko sees him looking at her and winks knowingly, just like everyone else has been winking and grinning at him since Viktor appeared at Hasetsu. As soon as the news became public, Phichit sent him a message that was nothing but the Lenny face. Yuuri finds it both fascinating and embarrassing that everyone seems to know about his crush but Viktor.

“Yuuri, concentrate!” the same Viktor says, and so Yuuri does. The ice is uneven from skating on it all day and his feet are red and bruised by now, but he continues to skate and to jump and to spin and to do everything else Viktor asks of him, even if his body is screaming. Where Celestino would have allowed him a break by now, Viktor is relentless and hard. It is the soft look he gives Yuuri whenever he lands a perfect jump or finishes a routine that makes Yuuri want to skate until his feet fall off.

Later, when he leaves the rink on wobbly feet, Viktor smiles at him so warmly that Yuuri wonders why the ice isn’t melting and says “You did amazing today.”

 “Th-thank you,” he mutters.

Viktor slings an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and the action makes Yuuri want to both flinch away and move closer. He settles on freezing on the spot.

“Don’t thank me yet. We still need to work on the middle part of your performance, your form is too sloppy. You also put on some weight again - No more pork cutlet bowls until you’re back in shape.”

__

Yuuri has absolutely no idea how old he is, or the answer to any question, really, if Viktor continues to look at him like that.

“What… what is it?” Yuuri asks, unconsciously biting his lip. He didn’t land the quadruple Salchow, but apart from that Yuuri thinks he did quite well. Or didn’t he?

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, voice neutral and calm. “That was…”

Viktor stops and swallows. Yuuri looks to where Yuuko is watching, searching for help, but he isn’t wearing his glasses and can’t make out her expression from this far away.

Viktor claps his hands, making Yuuri look back at him.

“Well, it looks like you’ve found your Eros!” Viktor says, smiling brightly. “Well done, Yuuri!”

“I… err… what?” Yuuri’s eyes are searching for Yuuko again, but she’s still too far away.

“I highly doubt you were thinking about pork cutlet bowls just then,” Viktor says with a smirk that makes Yuuri grow hot and cold at the same time. “Whatever you were thinking of, keep that thought if it makes you skate like that.”

Yuuri nods mechanically and follows Viktor to where Yuuko is already waiting for them, handing Yuuri his glasses.

“I need to make a quick phone call,” Viktor says and points to the exit. Before he turns around, Viktor pushes a stray strand out of Yuuri’s face. “Don’t leave without me.” 

“I won’t,” Yuuri whispers, voice weak and knees wobbly. 

“So… Viktor,” Yuuko asks with a sly smile when she’s sure Viktor can’t hear them anymore.

“What?” Yuuri replies.

“What are you going to do about him?”

“What?” Yuuri replies.

“Yuuri, don’t play coy!” Yuuko laughs. “He likes you! And I know for a fact that you like him, too.”

Yuuko’s words are like a punch in the gut. Yuuri balls his hands into fists and looks pointedly away. She is wrong. Just like Mari had been wrong when she said the exact same thing to him just a few days prior. Yuuri is going to tell her the same thing he had said to Mari in response.

“I… I think you misunderstand,” he starts. “Why would… why would someone like Viktor like me? I mean, I’m…” He spreads his arms as if to say ‘ _just look at me’_. And she does. She looks at him with bewilderment and confusion that is soon replaced by realisation as she covers her mouth with one hand.

“Oh god. You really do think that, don’t you?”

At least she didn’t slap him like Mari did.

“Well, yeah. He is Viktor Nikiforov and I am… just me.” Yuuri doesn’t want to look at her face because he knows that he will be faced with disappointment; she has always seen him as a greater person than he really is.

“Yuuri,” she says sternly, grabbing his chin and turning his head, leaving him no other choice than to look at her. “Don’t you ever, ever, think that just you isn’t enough.”

 Before he realises what’s happening, she pulls him into a tight embrace.

“Trust me on this because I’m a bit more experienced in relationships than you are,” she whispers into his ear. “He likes you.”

They stay like this for a while, Yuuko with his arms wrapped around him, Yuuri standing frozen in place. Just as he wants to return the hug, Yuuko lets go and punches him. Hard.

“And don’t you dare to talk about my best friend like that again,” she adds. Her mouth is a thin line, but there is humour in her eyes. 

When Viktor returns, Yuuri hasn’t even changed his shoes.

__

Yuuri is still 23 and if he hadn’t been crushing on Viktor before, he would be now. The way Viktor presses close to him and hugs him and touches him all the time makes him go dizzy and breathless in a way that skating never could.

Of course people start talking. The rumours are spreading like a crack on thin ice and Yuuri is surprised when he finds that he doesn’t care.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Viktor says, making Yuuri snap out of his train of thoughts. Viktor is lying on the couch, a book in his hands, his legs draped over Yuuri’s lap.

“Uhm,” Yuuri says and desperately tries to think of something to say that has nothing to do with a love declaration. It’s getting harder and harder in Viktor’s presence, but Yuuri has practice.

“I am going to compete against Phichit tomorrow.” A smile spreads on his lips at the thought of seeing one of his best friends again. He just has to prevent a meeting between him and Viktor and everything will be fine.

“Are you nervous?” Viktor asks, nudging Yuuri with his foot. The traffic noise finds its way through the closed windows, filling the otherwise silent hotel room with sound.

“A bit,” Yuuri admits, absently petting Viktor’s leg. “I know what he’s capable of. But I also know what I’m capable of.”

Even if Yuuri had known his answer would make Viktor smile like this, he wouldn’t have been prepared.

“That’s the spirit!” Viktor beams and pushes himself into a sitting position, removing his legs from Yuuri’s lap in the process. The following coldness makes Yuuri miss Viktor’s proximity in an instant. He doesn’t need to miss if for long, though, because Viktor crouches in front of him and takes both of Yuuri’s hands into his. One would think Yuuri would have gotten used to the constant touching by now, but a simple gesture like this is still able to make him feel like he’s drowning.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Viktor says, his eyes never leaving Yuuri’s. “But promise me one thing, Yuuri.”

 _Anything_ , Yuuri wants to say,  _anything_  you want. Instead, he nods.

“Don’t be afraid of doing something you love. Nervous, yes, but afraid? Never.”

Yuuri isn’t physically able to do anything else than nod and so he does, clutching Viktor’s hands.

“Okay,” he breathes. Viktor beams at him again and Yuuri wants nothing more than to kiss him, he really does.

To stop himself from doing anything he might regret later, he blurts “Have you ever been afraid of doing what you love?”

Viktor stills for a few stressful seconds. Yuuri doesn’t dare to move, or even to breathe, and a crushing feeling of disappointment settles in his stomach when Viktor pulls his hands free from Yuuri’s grip. He is just about to apologize when Viktor says “Right now I’m afraid of your friends starting to eat hot pot without us if we don't hurry.”

He gets up and stretches, pulling Yuuri to his feet. “Come on, let’s go.”

__

Yuuri is almost 24 when Viktor Nikiforov kisses him, on national TV, for the entire world to see. It probably isn’t an ideal first kiss: their noses are pressed together and it’s too short and too messy and too public and Yuuri is too shocked to react. Yuuri thinks it is perfect nonetheless.

Later, when they are alone in their hotel room, they don't say anything. It becomes an unspoken challenge of who is going to give in first. Yuuri loses gladly and kisses Viktor until his lips are on fire.

__

It is Yuuri’s 24th birthday and for the first time he thinks he might have a real chance at winning the Grand Prix.

There’s a small, messy cake sitting on the table in front of him. Viktor had insisted on buying it. There’s a purple candle on top of it, slightly askew, and Yuuri blows it out before the wax can drip on the cake.

“You need to make a wish,” Viktor tells him, reaching for Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri closes his eyes.

_I want you to always be happy, confident and loved._

He smiles and softly squeezes the hand entwined with his own. Viktor squeezes back.

“Did you make a wish?” he asks when Yuuri’s eyes flutter open.

“Yeah,” Yuuri nods. “And it already came true.”

 


End file.
